


The Hunt

by OtherCat



Series: OtherCat's Snippets and Incomplete Fic [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Disabled Character, Faeries Made Them Do It, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-05-23
Updated: 2002-05-23
Packaged: 2018-10-03 09:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10241465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtherCat/pseuds/OtherCat
Summary: Xander rescues Spike from the Wild Hunt--this leads to complications.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Fairy Challenge prompt: Buffy and the gang find out why vampires are afraid of  
> fairies Must contain: Spike yells these words at Buffy in a high, skeeky voice..."BLOODY HELL, WOMAN, YOU DON'T MESS WITH A FAIRY!"

Shit. Shitshitshit.  
  
The hounds were getting closer, white shapes glowing silver under the full orange moon.  
  
Spike fancied he could feel their hot breath on his neck as he ducked and dodged among the trees of the park. He could certainly hear the damned things yelling their heads off as they pursued, worse still were the horns blaring in his ears, and the occasional glimpses he got of the hunters. feathered masks, antlered helms, armor. A full blown bloody rade, and him caught out like a damn stupid fledge.  
  
*I Bloody HATE the whole bloody month of October!* He was lucky the sadistic bastards were just playing with him, coursing him like he was a damn fox or something, or he'd be down with elfshot embedded in his back side by now. He put on that extra burst of vampiric speed as he caught sight of the road. *Yeah, that's it, cross the street, jump down one of the manholes and hide out until they get bor--*  
  
Headlights.  
  
Strike a pose.  
  
Fade to black.  
  
Xander hit the brakes just as a running figure froze in the middle of the road. Xander had just enough time to identify the runner as Spike before the vamp rolled over the hood of the car with a frightening *crunch* of impact. Xander didn't even think about what might be out there nasty enough to make a master vampire take off like a bat out of hell, he just jumped out of the car, snagging a crow bar and rushing to the still vampire's side. "Spike, Spike! Are you all right?" Xander asked, dropping to his knees by the vampire. Spike was curled up on his side, motionless as a--well, as a corpse. Just as the young man was about to try picking the vamp up, the things that had been chasing Spike broke through the trees.  
  
Dogs.  
  
Big dogs.  
  
Glowing white dogs with bloody red ears and yellow eyes whose backs were about hip-high to Xander. The nearest dog lunged, snarling, and Xander jumped to his feet and bounced the crow bar off the dog's skull. The dog screamed, and the smell of burned flesh filled the air as the animal collapsed.  
  
The rest of the pack jumped back into a wide semicircle, just out of range of the crow bar, but keeping Xander and the vamp penned in. Just beyond the pack, riders in glowing armor, mounted on glowing horses clattered to a stop. The riders were all armed with swords and spears, and none of them looked at all happy with one Alexander LaVelle Harris.  
  
"Mortal, you have struck down our quarry in the midst of our hunt," said the apparent leader, a figure in black with silver deer antlers on his helm, and a wolf-mask."It is only because of your noon-forged steel weapon that we have not yet struck you down. Leave the vampire, and we will allow you to depart in peace."  
  
Xander didn't budge. "How about _you_ leave the vampire, and and _we_ depart in peace, big guy?" Yeah, Spike was evil, yeah, Spike would probably never return the favor, at least for Xander, because only Dawn moved the vamp to acts of blatant heroism...and speak of the demon, Spike was waking up out of his daze. _Hey, let's hear it for vampiric recovery, boys and girls!_ Two of the dogs nearest the vamp snarled, and inched forward, only to hop back when Spike snarled back, gamefaced. The vampire, still growling, took in the dogs, the riders, and Xander. Favoring his ribs Spike skootched closer to the crowbar wielding human, and shouted something at the riders in what sounded like Gaelic, (which Xander only recognized because of the language tapes Buffy had bought and listened to for a year in order to surprise Angel...unfortunately, the only surprise involved had been the gales of laughter from Angel, because Buffy's mastery of the language of Erin was about equal to her command of French--non-existant.) only with more vowels.  
  
"Uh Spike? What the hell did you just say?" Xander asked, because a low snarl rippled through the crowd of riders. The vampire, now crouched against the human's leg glanced up at Xander, eyes still demon-yellow.  
  
"Nothin' much, just that I was under the protection of the Slayer, and you were her vassal." Spike almost melted into Xander then, rubbing the side of his face against Xander's jeans clad leg, leading the human to suspect that that hadn't been _all_ he said. Xander flushed, angry and embarrassed by the close contact. "Play along, whelp, _please_?" The vamp muttered against Xander's leg. The human had never heard the vamp say please before, and he had never, _ever_ heard Spike sound so frightened. Spike was shaking, not with the force of his growls, which he had been doing continously since he'd woken up, but with sheer terror. Xander found himself placing the hand not wrapped tightly around the crow bar on top of Spike's head, trying to comfort the vampire in some way.  
  
"Alright," Xander whispered back. "He isn't yours to hunt--" ("say 'My Lord', whelp!" Spike hissed frantically) "--My Lord, and you hunt here without My Lady's consent," he continued as Spike coached him. "And you hunt that which is--" Xander faltered a bit at this point, only Spike's trembling pushed him to say the next words, "mine, and under My Lady's protection."  
  
The leader stared at Xander for a moment, then at the cringing vamp. "Then gaurd him well, mortal, for this is not over yet. By Ash and by Thorn, I swear it," The leader said in a cold, deadly voice. He turned his horse around, and threaded his way past the other riders. The remaining hunters called off the dogs, and the riders trailed off into the park, fading out like a special effect. Spike was still clinging to Xander's leg, shivering, and swearing under his breath. _Mine? what the_ hell _did he tell those--people?_ For the moment, he didn't want to know, he was more worried about the obviously terrified vampire. _Anything that can scare Spike this badly must be real bad news_.*  
  
"Ummm...Spike? You can let go now, we're kind of in the middle of the road here." Xander tried to pull free, and reflexively, the vamp tightened his grip. "Spike?"  
  
"Oi, stake me now," Spike moaned into Xander's leg. "I'm a bloody pillock!"  
  
Xander pried himself free of Spike's grip, and knelt by the vamp. "Nah, you're still the Big Bad," he said. "Let's just take a look at the damage, okay?" Xander carefully began checking the vamp for injuries aside from obvious scrapes and torn clothing. One of Spike's ankles was swollen, and it felt like the vamp's ribs would need to be taped. _And of course the Zeppo forgot to restock the car's first aid kit. Joy_. "Who were those guys, anyway?" Xander asked.  
  
"Save it for the Watcher," Spike growled, and tried to stand. On his sprained ankle. The vampire yelped and fell. Xander caught him, and lifted him in his arms. "Leggo, you wanker!" He shouted, and squirmed as the human carried him around to the passenger side. "I can walk, dammit!" Xander set him down long enough to get the door open.  
  
"What was that?" Xander asked as he settled the fuming vamp into the car. "'Please help me to the car since you ran me over while I was running from Bigger Bads?'" Then as he buckled the vamp in "Of course, Spike, don't mention it!"  
  
"If it wasn't for this chip--" Spike groused half heartedly as Xander started the car and headed to the Watcher's house.  
  
"I would have turned around for a second pass," Xander said in a snide tone he'd lifted from ol' Ripper. The brow-lift-with-a-smirk thingie was Spike's though, and the vamp growled at the human.  
  
"An' had the whole bloody rade on your tail b'fore you could blink, mate. All the iron in the world won't save you from a blast of elfshot."  
  
Xander looked confused. "Rade? Elfshot?"  
  
"I'll explain at the Watcher's," Spike growled. *No way in HELL I'm explaining this more than once.*  
  
Much to Spike's annoyance, once they parked in the Watcher's driveway, the whelp insisted on unbuckling his seatbelt for him, and lifting him up out of the car. When Spike protested, Xander started singing--offkey --"He ain't heavy...he's my vampire!" In the most annoying country twang Spike had ever heard.  
Xander carried Spike up the front steps, kicked the door a couple times and waited. "Spike? What happened to you?" Giles asked as he immediately held the door open so that Xander could could get inside. Spike opened his mouth, but Xander answered.  
  
"Something called a rade was chasing Spike. We found out what happened when irresistable force meets the immovable object." Xander said, and carried Spike to the couch, and gently set him down.  
  
"Wills?" he said to the red head, who immediately jumped up from her place at the computer when Xander had entered with Spike.  
  
"First aid kit," Willow said, and scurried off to find it.  
  
"I'll heat up some blood," Tara offered, and disappeared into the  
kitchen.  
  
At roughly the same time, Buffy wheeled into the room "I ordered the pizzas--" then she spotted Spike. "Bleach-head, who said you could get beat up by someone besides me?"  
  
"Apparently Spike was attacked--what did you say he was attacked by, besides your car?"  
  
"YOU HIT SPIKE!?" Buffy Slayer-glared at Xander. Dawn appeared as if materialized by Buffy's shout.  
  
"You hit Spike?!"  
  
"Not my fault! Something was chasing him!" Xander protested.  
  
Buffy switched her glare to Spike. "What was chasing you Spike?"  
  
The vamp visibly shuddered. "The Wild Hunt."  
  
Buffy looked blank, then looked at Giles, who looked rather like someone had just kicked him in the chest. "Oh dear." Willow, just re-entering the room, squeaked.  
  
"Translation?" Buffy asked.  
  
"F-faeries," the witch said, wide eyed.  
  
_"Faeries?_  
  
  
"Yeh,"Spike said shortly as Willow efficiently stripped him of his  
shirt and began cleaning his wounds,while Tara gently removed his shoe, and put an ice pack around his ankle."Faeries."  
  
Buffy blinked."Tinkerbell kicked your ass?"  
  
"More like Tink's bigger, meaner brothers,"Xander said, sitting down next to the vampire.For some reason some part of Spike's brain was unusually focussed on the mortal,had been since the whelp had literally run into him. Since the mortal had stood and faced an entire bloody rade of pissed off fey, in fact. Granted,the boy didn't know faeries from Tharks,but the demon in Spike was impressed. Xander smelled of sawdust, plaster, sweat, and Anya, all underlying the peppercorn-and-cut grass scent that was uniquely Xander's. Spike restrained himself from inhaling to catch more of it."They had dogs, and horses,"Xander continued,"like they were having a fox hunt or something--except they were hunting Spike."Xander frowned at Spike."What _was_ that all about,anyway Spike?"  
  
"Er, the rade or--?"Spike asked uncomfortably.  
  
"Both,"Xander said firmly."Definately both."  
  
Bafflement circled the room at the exchange,and settled on Giles, who lifted his brows in inquiry."Well now,my curiosity's piqued, do share Spike."  
  
"It's like this, see--there's demons, there's mortals and there's Them," Spike began, the capital "T"clearly audible. "They don't like demons too much, not the Light Court or the Dark, but the Dark'll maybe trade with demons, but only i-if they follow certain rules--"Spike faltered, and suppressed the shiver he felt working it's way up his spine.Just talking about Them,could some times draw Their attention. He hardly noticed Willow putting a comforting hand on his shoulder as she finished taping up his ribs.  
  
"Vampires break guest laws when they kill someone who's invited them in," Tara supplied shyly. "Th-the fey don't like that."  
  
"Wankers," Spike muttered "Actin' all high and mighty, like they don't do mortals dirty too."  
  
Giles took his glasses off, and cleaned them, a sure sign of Watcher-agitation if there ever was one."Yes, well, the Folk have been allies of mortals, as often as they have been enemies, unlike vampires."  
  
"Except Spike," Tara said softly, seconded by Willow's "and Angel!"Giles lifted his hand in the manner of a fencer signifying a touch.  
  
"Umm...allies?"Buffy asked."How come we haven't seen them till now?"  
  
"Or read about them in all the Watcher books?"Xander asked.  
  
"Because the Watcher's Council tends to operate on a need to know basis," Giles said sourly. "They were not aware of an--an Underhill presence this close to the Hellmouth. So they did not --deem it necessary to make the information availible.However,there are many books of folklore readily accessible--some of which I recall assigning you to read,Buffy."  
  
The Slayer got both barrels of the Teacher Look,and she winced. "Sorry?"  
  
At that point the pizza arrived, thus saving Buffy from any attempt at prevarication. Xander and Dawn brought the pizzas, the buffalo wings, sodas and paper plates into the living room. Setting the food in reach of the Scoobies. When everyone had helped themselves to the food,Xander sat back down "Still haven't said why these faeries make the Big Bad, Much Scared, Fangless," the young man commented.  
  
Spike stared at Xander."Because _they're FAERIES_ you git! The worse worry isn't that they'd kill you as soon as look at you, it's that they _don't_ kill you!" The vampire shivered. When he'd been just turned, and like most fledges, brash and stupid, he hadn't believed in faeries. Why should he have? He'd been a city boy, starvation, disease and street gangs had been a more going concern than Wisht Hounds or Jacks-in-Irons. Or hags. Or phoukas. Angelus had taken him out, and dumped him into a lake inhabited by a kelpie. The damned thing couldn't drown him, since he didn't need to breathe, and couldn't eat him, on account of him being dead, but it had had _lots_ of fun before Angelus had finally gotten around to rescuing him.  
  
Shivering hard, he felt his fangs start to drop, was aware that he was growling softly--but all he could see was the black, red-eyed glare of a fanged horse, and all he could feel was water rushing into his lungs. Didn't need to breath, no, but the water was cold and it HURT...  
  
Warm arms suddenly encirled him, and Spike found himself burrowing into the embrace,cut-grass-and-peppercorn filling his nose."He was like this before," he could hear Xander  explaining," um, is there anything else you can tell us about faeries, Giles? Willow?"  
  
"Yes," Giles said," try to avoid calling them--ahem--faeries...it tends to attract their attention. As for the rade, the Seelie and Unseelie Courts both have a tradition of holding...hunts between Midsummer and All Soul's Night. This hunt has gone by many names, such as the Wild Hunt, the Host, or the Devil's Dandy Dogs." There was a pause from Giles." The hunters, depending on what Court they belong to...are often not particular about what they hunt."  
  
"So, how do we stop them?" Buffy asked.  
  
Spike startled out of his daze and stared at the Slayer in astonishment." Bloody _HELL_ woman, you don't mess with a _faery_!"He shouted at the stunned Slayer." You bloody well get out of Their way!"  
  
"Hey Spike, take it easy, we won't let them get you,okay?"Xander said, still hugging the vampire. "You said something to them, that seemed to work at getting rid of them, right?"  
  
"What did he say?" Giles asked intently.  
  
Xander thought about it,then carefully repeated the words Spike had coached him to say."' He isn't yours to hunt My Lord, and you hunt here without My Lady's consent, and you hunt that which is mine, and under My Lady's protection," he frowned."Spike, what the _hell_ was that bit about you being mine mean?"  
  
Spike looked intensely embarrassed." I, er, said we was *anam cara*,soulfriends, like.' An that th'Slayer wouldn't take it well if m'head was decorating a spear."  
  
Giles frowned."Spike, you _are_ aware that one must be extremely careful in what one says in the presence of the Folk, don't you?"  
  
"What? I _wouldn't_ take it well if Spike's head was decorating a spear," Buffy wheeled her chair around to glare at Giles.  
  
"'E's talking about the 'anam cara' luv," Spike said wearily." And I didn't get rid of the Hunt-Master...'e'll be back." Spike shuddered. _Anam cara,_ what idiot impulse had persuaded him to make that claim? He could have said a lot of things that would have flown better and farther, but the first thing that had popped out of his mouth had been "He is the Slayer's sworn man, and I am anam cara to him,you court HER displeasure by your actions!" In the torturously complex Court language of the faeries.He'd never thought he'd ever need to use it, wasn't even sure he knew the right words, but it had just flowed out of him, like he'd been born speaking it, and he was sickeningly grateful that Angelus had more or less forced him to learn it.  
  
The words had come with an almost giddy elation--and error, because there had been a single, infintessimal moment,when he had actually believed his own words.  
  
"Well, we won't let him get you," Willow said loyally, rubbing at the vampire's arm. She looked worried, frowning fiercely at Spike. The vampire almost laughed at the thought of this little girl trying to comfort a big bad vamp like himself,but thought better of it...Red had depths to her,and a level of power that had enabled her to stand up against a hellgod.If anyone could face the collected powers of a faery rade,it'd be Willow.  
  
"What was all that about 'my lady's consent, and my lady's protection'?" Buffy asked.  
  
Spike managed a slight smile." Because luv, the fey folk more or less consider the Slayer an honorary fey,of sorts. Yer a Peer of the realm, as far as They're concerned, equal in rank to a Tanist."The vamp nodded to the other Scoobies."Just a bit below a king."  
  
Buffy blinked. "What, I'm like a princess, or something?"  
  
"In a sense," Giles interjected. "Though this had not always been an advantage. The Folk might respect the Slayer, but this doesn't mean They've never killed, imprisoned, or enchanted the Chosen One."  
  
On that note, the conversation for the rest of the evening centered around the faeries and the Wild Hunt. The Scoobies learned that both the Dark and Light Courts were associated with the dead, in fact, many legends stated that faeries were the spirits of pagans to virtuous for hell, or the souls of unbaptized infants.  
  
Other stories stated that Faeries were in fact "partially fallen" angels,or actual gods, their powers fading as they died out...and they _always_ seemed to be dying out...Giles related countless stories about the "Final fading of Faerie," each occurrence a decade to a hundred years after the last one."Like Mark Twain," Buffy had said, surprising them,"'Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,'" then at the Scoobies' dumbfounded expression,"What,I can't come up with a literary quote every once in a while?" Ghosts were often seen to accompany the Folk, which was another reason why faeries hated vampires. If a human was turned, the soul was unable to go to it's rest--or to the Courts--until the vampire had been slain.  
  
Xander called to check on Anya, who had stayed home that evening,to work on the details of their wedding plans. He didn't go into details, but he let her know that Spike would be spending the night. And why. He was amazed at the very real fear in the ex-demon's voice at the mention of the Wild Hunt.  
  
Xander was worried about the vampire, who had sunk back into a glassy daze after he'd spoken.If the stories he'd been hearing all night were accurate, he didn't blame the vamp. The "Hunt-Master" or whatever he was called wouldn't stop until Spike was dead, Slayer or no Slayer. Xander was more or less amazed by the strength of the protectiveness he was suddenly feeling for the vampire, where before there had only been a sort of wary acceptance of Spike.*What the hell is happening to me?*The young man wondered, and shook his head.  
  
The ride home was quiet, without any sighting of masked riders or big white dogs, though the vampire still had a tendency to twitch at the slightest unusual sound or movement. Upon entering the apartment however, with Spike trailing behind, stopping at the door. Xander invited him in, then Anya practically jumped into Xander's arms. "Xander!" Then she jumped back. "You are Xander right?" She peered uncertainly into his eyes,as if searching for Xanderlike attributes. "I mean, you're not a shapeshifter or something, are you?"  
  
Xander leaned his forehead against her brow. "I'm me, the last I looked, An, are you alright?"  
  
"No,I think we should leave right away--could we elope? Please?"  
  
"Sorry Anya, no can do--Scoobies stick together, hey?" Then softly, but not so softly that vampiric ears couldn't pick it up. "If you want to, you can go." The pair might have been in their own private dimension, and Spike shifted uncomfortably.  
  
The ex-demon looked up at Xander, suddenly determined. "I'll stay."  
  
"You two need to be alone?" Spike tried for a smirk, but it more or less turned flat. Xander and Anya turned to look at him, as if they'd actually forgotten he was there.

  
Two pairs of angry brown eyes stared at Spike. "Way to spoil a mood, fangless," Xander said in a snarky voice. "That 'anam cara' thing sure wears off fast, I guess, doesn't it, Soul-less boy."  
  
Anya blinked, looking from Xander to Spike. "Anam cara?" She looked even more worried and frightened than before.  
  
"That's what Spike said," Xander said. "They seemed to believe him--they at least went away."  
  
"They couldn't have believed him, unless they thought he was telling the truth, Xander," Anya said. "It's practically impossible to lie to Them."  
  
"You...um...know a lot about them?" Xander asked hesitantly. This was approaching the dangerous territory of "Things About My Ex-Demon Fiance I Don't Want to Know About," but he was feeling almost morbidly curious.  
  
Spike snorted. "Mate, she's probably done jobs for 'em--"  
  
Anya sighed, almost wistfully. "The Folk don't really need a vengeance demon--I mean, when you can cause all the men of Ulster to have labor pains when they try to go into battle, for nine generations, who needs a demon?"  
  
"Err...back to not being able to lie to the Folk?"Xander asked.  
  
Anya, who was finally getting the concept of empathy, smiled reassuringly up at her fiance. "The Folk are tied to the seasons and the elements, much more closely than humans, or demons," she explained. "They don't even live in the same time we do, not really--Most of them are Seers, or they can make things come true, just by saying it, or having it said in their presence." Anya's eyes narrowed as a sudden thought occurred to her. "You better not have gone and got my Xander geased, Spike," she stepping away from Xander, standing four-square and very much in the vampire's personal space. Xander himself tensed, anticipating a fight between vamp and ex-demon, and preparing to defend one from the other.  
  
To Xander's amazement however, Spike lifted his hands in a placating gesture. "I don't think I did, Anyanka," he said, using her full name, which he almost never did. "If there's a geas, most likely it's on me, not him."  
  
"Cluing in the Zeppo here," Xander said. "What's a gaysh?"  
  
"S'like a taboo, whelp," Spike said, crossing over to the couch and sitting down, straight-backed and slightly stiff from having his ribs taped up by the witches. His ankle still hurt, but he could walk on it, in a pinch, but he didn't really want to stand. "Something in specific that you can't do, or something awful will happen. Like you might be restricted from singing in the shower, or wearing green on a specific day. You can be born with one, or be given one."  
  
"And if you have one, and you're tricked into breaking it, or you _can't_ * obey it, bad things happen." Anya glared at the vampire.  
  
"Why do you think you've got a geas, Spike?" Xander asked.  
  
"I," Spike suddenly looked uncertain. "I don't know...I felt something, don't know what--just different."  
  
A tiny bit of that first terror appeared on Spike's face, that almost feral tension that had radiated from the vampire when they had faced the rade by the side of the road just a few hours ago. Xander could remember his own adrenalin rush at the sight of those huge dogs slipping out from between the trees, snarling, and the sound of those horns...He shook his head, "Tomorrow, we'll deal with this tomorrow," Xander said. "Anya, are you tired, or do you want to grill the vampire some more?"  
  
Anya turned back around, head tilted inquisitively. "Is that one of those questions where saying 'yes' to wanting to grill the vampire will cause you to sigh and roll your eyes a little bit?"  
  
Xander smiled. "Yes."  
  
"Then I'm tired. Good night Spike," Anya disappeared into the bedroom.  
  
Xander looked over at Spike. "Lie down, and get the weight off that ankle, Fangless," he said. "I can't believe I let you talk me into walking all the way to the door."  
  
"M'fine," the vampire muttered, but obeyed. And was annoyed with himself that he *had* obeyed.  
  
"Do you need a blanket? Pillows?"  
  
"I _said_ I'm fine!" The vampire snarled a little louder. The whelp was still hovering over him, like he hadn't heard the snap in Spike's voice. Smiling a little, like Xander was thinking *Aww, grumpy vamp, how cute!* And wasn't _that_ a little disturbing. Not half as disturbing as the feelings Xander's concern was invoking however. "I'm fine," he repeated more calmly. "All I need's a blanket."  
  
Xander disappeared a moment, and returned with a blanket. "Here," he said, handing the blanket to Spike. "Sleep tight."  


* * *

  
  
On the roof of the apartment building is a dark haired man. He sits cross-legged on the roof, a small harp before him, crafted of oak, with silver wires for strings. He strums softly at the strings, and chants. His words are silvery, and have a mind of their own, they drift and twist in the moonlight, weaving, binding. Slipping in through an apartment window, gliding cat-footed to encircle restless, unsleeping vampire, restful ex-demon, and half dozing human.  
  
And Xander Dreams...  
  
He's back in the basement, except his old basement apartment has somehow been converted into a coffee shop. On a stage that's somehow occupying the corner where the washer and dryer had been. Spike is sitting on a three-legged stool, playing a guitar and singing.  


> "For forty days and forty nights  
>  He wade thro' red blood to the knee,  
>  And he saw neither sun nor moon,  
>  But heard the roaring of the sea."

  
  
"I'm sick of dreaming of the basement," he tells the dark haired man sharing his table.  
  
The man smiles. "The music's good."  
  
Xander nods. "I haven't dreamed this weird since the sandbox. I mean, _Spike_ singing folk music? In a coffee shop?"  
  
"In your basement, no less," the man replied.  
  
"Am I going to get my heart ripped out?"  
  
The man shook his head. "There's no stone to replace it with. White knights don't come cheaply, these days."  
  
"So what's the deal here?"  
  
The man shrugged "Don't be afraid of getting burned, refuse the first cup, but not the second, and take care of where you give your word."  
  
"Crypto-man," Xander commented.  
  
The man smiled. "Comes with the territory."  
  
And Anya dreams...  
  
In her dream, she's Macha, whose husband got drunk and told the king that she could run faster than the king's favorite chariot team. She's barefoot in the wet spring grass, ready to run, but she's heavily pregnant, furious with her frightened and very hung over husband, and terrified that she might lose the baby. She is simultaneously the faery woman and herself, and she knows the outcome of this race already. There's a shout, and the crack of a whip, and she takes off running, long stretching strides equal to that of the horses...  
  
...And she's still running, but she's not breathing, and it's a park she's running through, at night. The hounds are close at her heels and the sound of horns deafen and terrify her. The weight of a black duster flaps around her her legs, and she can smell cigarrettes and the faint whiff of peroxide. She's Spike, but again, still herself. Words are pounding in her head as she runs, barely a breath ahead of the Hunt, a chant.  


> "I have fled vehemently, I have fled as a chain,  
>  I have fled as a roe into an entangled thicket,  
>  I have fled as a wolf cub,  
>  I have fled as a wolf in a wilderness,  
>  I have fled as a martin, which did not avail,  
>  I have fled as a squirrel, that vainly hides."

  
  
...And she knows that if Xander had heard the chant, he would said something like "Hey, like that scene in The Sword and the Stone, right? Like Merlin and the witch." Which is why, of course, she loves him. Not for his ignorance, but for the way his thoughts connect to each other, how they form unexpected shapes and pop right back out again.  
  
Spike-Anya stumbles hard, and twists her ankle, rolls back to her  
feet and takes off again, heading for the street. Bright headlights blind her, and then she's sliding off the hood of the car. It's not Xander, however who exits the car, but a stranger, a dark haired man, who squats down next to her. "Don't you ever get tired of running?"  
  
"I'm not running, anymore," Anya says.  
  
"Well, that goes without saying. Where do you go from here?"  
  
Anya blinked. "That's a needlessly existential question. Is there  
a place I _should_ be going?"  
  
The man laughed, and shook his head. "Look to your own white knight for guidance, but know when to stay his hand, take the black knight's part when the time comes, and you'll come out safely."  
  
And Spike dreams...  
  
He's back in the fucking wheelchair, gnawing (figuratively) at his own liver, listening to the slamming of a headboard against the wall. No matter where he goes in the bloody mansion, he can hear the sound of Angelus fucking Dru into the mattress. He hates this, he hates this feeling of jealousy, and he hates not knowing if he's more green-eyed over Dru with Angelus, or Angelus with Dru--because he needs them both.  
  
But they don't need him.  
  
Directly before him, he sees Angel, (v2.0, and buggy as hell) holding Xander out to another Spike. A Spike who's saying "I can't bite 'im, I've a sodding chip in my head!"  
  
And Angel says, in a Darth Vader voice, "Then use the Force, Spike."  
  
He wheels around a corner of the huge building, and finds a door leading to a flight of stairs. The stairs for some reason lead down to the whelp's Basement of Doom, where he sees himself, tied to the the recliner. Next to the tied up version of himself is Buffy in her own wheelchair. They're watching *Dark Shadows* on a flickering set. Barnabas Collins has been replaced by Angelus, and Victoria Winters is Drusilla. Spike of course, is Willie. Buffy and tied-up-Spike are eating popcorn, and throwing popcorn at the screen, obviously MST3King the show, and Spike--in-the-wheelchair can see that the tied up version has the Slayer in stitches, but Spike-in-the-wheelchair can't hear a word they're saying.  
  
"Are you going down?" The voice is behind him, but Spike hadn't heard anyone come up.  
  
"I'd break my neck," Spike said, stretching up and looking over his shoulder the best he could. A dark haired man was smiling at him, thumbs hooked into his belt loops.  
  
"And you're not one to risk his neck?" The man asked, smirking.  
  
Spike growled. "Not hardly, I'd risk my life for her and the Nibblet--already have, in fact." Spike wheeled himself around to face the man. "What's all this about mate?"  
  
"Does it have to be about something?" The man asked with a lifted  
eyebrow.  
  
Spike simply stared at the man, who sighed.  
  
"Put your faith in the hands of the demon, and your fate in the hands of the knight. When you are called, answer only to your truest name."  
  
...When the early morning sun turned the clouds to salmon and silver, the harpist ended his spell. He sighed and stretched until he creaked, then shut his harp up in it's case. Confident of his invisibility to the mortal--or demonic for that matter--eye, he stood, slung his case across his back, and stepped off the roof into empty air, and walked down a invisible staircase. On reaching the ground, the harpist slipped into the shadows of morning and vanished.

 

* * *

  
  
It was evening, and not yet dark when Xander left work and headed for his car.  
  
Except for the really bizarre dreams he'd had the night before, and waking up to the sight of a vampire in his bathroom using _his_ toothbrush, it had been a very quiet, almost boring day. No phone calls from Giles or Willow warning of impending doom, no odd portents or evil omens. Just another day.  
  
There was someone standing by his car. Tall, leather jacket, blue jeans. reminded him of a line in a book he'd read once. "...But the elves look like royalty. When they're trying not to, they only look like royalty in a cheap plastic disguise..." The guy standing by the car had skin that had never heard of acne, steel-gray eyes that looked like they could shoot lightning bolts and sharp, inhumanly beautiful features that made Spike look homely. _And we are going to pretend that we do not realize that Spike is attractive, and that this elf-guy is gorgeous. Bad Xander._  
  
Xander stopped a few feet away from the elf-guy. "Evening," he said, trying to sound casual, while wishing that he'd brought out a hammer, a screw driver, _something_ with iron in it.  
  
The elf-guy smiled. "Evening. I bring a message for you, mortal, directly from the hand of my lord."  
  
Xander blinked. "Is this the part where I ask you to give me the message, and you slap me into the middle of next week?"  
  
Elf-guy chuckled. "No, it is not." With careful, deliberate movements, the elf reached into his jacket and pulled out a small scroll. "Here is a summons to a formal trial by ordeal, mortal, along with a map to where the ordeal shall take place. You must be there at the appointed hour, or the trial shall be automatically decided in my lord's favor."  
  
"Um...okay," Xander said, and took the small scroll from the elf. "Th-" Before he could say "Thank you," the elf-guy held his hand up, palm barely brushing the Scooby's lips.  
  
The elf was frowning thunderously, but there was a smile in his steel colored eyes. "What you were about to say, must not be said. Ever. Gratitude among my kind is mute." When Xander nodded, the elf lowered his hand, and smiled. "Fare well then, mortal," he said, and vanished.

**Author's Note:**

> About half of this is genuine folklore,read Kathering Briggs' _The Vanishing People_ and _The Encyclopedia of Fairies_ for particulars...the rest is insane Buffyverse theorizing.
> 
> In addition to a folk song, and the Mabinogion, I've included a quote from Emma Bull's novel _Finder_...
> 
> "Rade" is spelled correctly. 
> 
> In this AU Buffy falls from the tower and survives.
> 
> Part of my ongoing project to put up my older incomplete fics.


End file.
